Death of a Pianist
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This oneshot is murder and fluff set sometime in 6th season after Kate's reinstatement and while Alexis is out of the loft. There is no angst. It is a bit more explicit than many of my stories so it is M for safety. There are a couple of NF Easter Eggs for fun. This doesn't tie to any of my other stories. I own nothing. Follow me on Twitter @CheerfulChemist.


Death of a Pianist

"No!" Mitzy Gertler exclaimed as she viewed the email with disbelief. "How can she kick me off the praise team? No one gets kicked out of music groups at the church no matter how bad they are. Besides I'm the only one there who can hit any of the notes above the staff. This makes no sense."

There was no denying that the behavior of Abby Grunge, the pianist and interim music director had been strange lately. She had been taciturn and in some cases downright short with members of the music ministry. She also smelled of solvent. Mitzy had wondered if Abby had been painting her apartment. When she asked, Abby had hesitated before blurting out that she had been doing some work for a friend. This latest incident was mystifying as well as hurtful, but Mitzy had no time to puzzle or mourn. She had to get ready for work and had spent more than enough time at her keyboard before grabbing a shower and breakfast.

A knock at the door came just as Mitzy finished brushing her teeth.

Mitzy opened the door to a handsome man and a beautiful woman. She was staring at the man's startlingly blue eyes when the woman diverted her attention. "Ms. Gertler, I'm Detective Beckett, this is Mr. Castle. We'd like to ask you some questions."

"Detective, Mr. Castle, I was just leaving for work," Mitzi answered. "There is a very strict lateness policy. Can you walk with me to the subway?"

Beckett nodded. "Ms. Gertler, you attend the Love Triumphs Church, is that correct?" Beckett asked.

"Yes," Mitzi agreed, "I am - I was, a member of the praise team. I'm also a deacon. What about LTC?"

"There's been an incident involving an Abby Grunge, do you know her?" Castle asked.

"Yes of course I know her," Mitzi replied, "she's our pianist. Is she all right?"

"She's dead." Beckett declared matter-of-factly. "Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt her?"

"Hurt her yes, me," Mitzi confided. "I just read an email from her kicking me off the praise team. But the most I was considering doing was messing up her perfect blond hair, maybe with a little India ink."

"Wow!" Castle muttered.

"But kill her," Mitzi exclaimed, "no. I can tell you that she's been a little weird lately."

"How so?" Castle asked.

"Out of sorts and almost rude sometimes. And there was the way she smelled, a slightly fruity smell like a ketone. I thought she might have been working on her apartment, cleaning paint brushes or something, but she said no, that she was doing a favor for a friend. That didn't sound plausible to me. She lives - lived, practically across the street from the church. It she came from a friend's place she could have washed up and changed. It was more like she was doing something right before she came, or her apartment was contaminated with the stuff. Those chemicals are usually pretty volatile. They disappear fast."

"How do you know about that?" Beckett asked.

"I used to work in a finishing shop," Mitzi informed her. "We used those solvents on a daily basis, until the insurance company made us stop. Too much fire danger. We had to switch to things way more expensive, but safer. The owners had to cut the workforce, including me."

"Where do you work now?" Castle inquired.

"A medical lab," Mitzi replied. "Actually if we don't get things done on time people can die, that's why the lateness policy. I really can't miss my train."

"All right," Beckett agreed, "thank you for your time Ms. Gertler."

"So what do you think, Beckett?" Castle asked as they walked back to the car from the subway entrance.

"I think she spent way too much time gazing at your eyes," Beckett replied, clearly annoyed. "But she did tell us the truth about the email we found on Abby Grunge's computer, which leads me to believe what she said about the chemicals. Whether that had anything to do with Abby's murder or not, I don't know."

"Could Abby have been making drugs?" Castle asked.

"CSU didn't report any evidence of that." Beckett answered. "We should go back to the crime scene and see if we can find anything like what Mitzy Gertler was talking about."

"Yeah," Castle agreed. "Before we get there I need to look up what ketones are."

"Good thought," Beckett commented.

* * *

><p>"I think I found something," Castle reported from the bathroom. "You see this," he said indicating a small device, "it's for generating ultrasonic waves. Alexis and I used one once for one of her science projects. She was building a model bat. You put this in here," he explained, indicating a small stainless steel pan. "Then you add this." Castle held up a small bottle labeled M.E.K. "M.E.K. stands for methyl ethyl ketone. It's used as a stripper. Then you drop whatever you want to take paint off of in the pan, turn on the wave generator and voila, no more paint."<p>

"So what was she stripping and did it have anything to do with her murder?" Beckett asked.

"We can see," Castle proposed. "There's a little tray of these," he told her, pointing to small paint covered objects. "Let's strip one."

"Castle, we can't just do that. We have to document it."

"I can make a video with my phone and you can fill out the paperwork," Castle suggested. "If we find anything interesting we bag everything for CSU."

"Okay Castle," Beckett agreed.

Castle held up the tiny jade figurine revealed by the removal of paint. "Beckett, I think we'd better bag."

Beckett surveyed the jade figurines CSU had cleaned, lined up on the conference table. "What do these have to do with anything, Castle?" she asked in consternation. "You can pick up stuff like this at tourist traps in Chinatown. Why would anyone cover them with paint and why would anyone commit murder over it?"

Castle picked up each piece in turn, examining it with the magnifying app on his phone. "Beckett have you noticed how primitive these are, as if whoever carved them didn't have a sharp edge? I don't think these are contemporary. They look prehistoric. We need an expert to look at these. If I recall my perusal of the faculty at Columbia, they have an expert in Chinese Art History."

"Castle, how did you remember that?" Beckett asked.

"I checked on all the male professors in anything that might interest Alexis." Castle explained. "She likes art history and I didn't want anyone preying on her. He was fine."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "I should have known."

"Columbia?" Castle asked.

"Columbia," Beckett confirmed.

White haired, bespectacled, Professor Renquist carefully examined each piece of jade. "These shouldn't even be here," he declared. "These are prehistoric artifacts. They should have stayed in China."

"Could they have been smuggled?" Castle asked.

"They would have to have been," Renquist replied. "The Chinese government would not have permitted them to be taken out of the country."

"So our victim was a smuggler," Castle noted as he and Beckett crossed the quad.

"It makes no sense, Castle," Beckett protested. "Abby Grunge was a teacher's aide. She played piano at her church. How could she be a smuggler?"

"Maybe she came in contact with a smuggler and ripped him off, that's a pretty good motive for murder," Castle theorized. "Hey Beckett look, college students never change. Still more interested in studying each other."

Beckett followed Castle's gaze to a couple lying on a blanket amidst a mass of ignored books, busily exploring each others' lips. She unconsciously ran the tip of her tongue over her own.

Castle followed the path of her tongue with his thumb. "Care for a trip down memory lane?"

"Castle, the grass is wet and we don't have a blanket," Beckett protested half-heartedly.

"There's always the back seat of the car," Castle offered. "The way you can put your leg up we could..."

Beckett quickly noted the time on her father's watch. "Castle, that's my official vehicle, but we are past the end of my shift. We could just go back to the loft where it's dry – and warm."

"Beckett, I like the way you think," Castle responded enthusiastically."Use the gumball."

"Castle, that's only for emergencies."

Castle guided her hand downward. "This is an emergency."

The flashing light got them to Broom Street in record time. When the elevator came too slowly, they took the stairs and Castle stabbed his key in the lock to free the door from its jamb. The bed seemed almost too far as Castle kicked the door shut. Tearing at each others' clothes along the way, Kate slipped her gun into the drawer of the nightstand and they barely made it to the soft yielding surface.

Castle gazed at the smooth skin of Kate's shoulders, worshiping it first with fingers then with mouth before fully opening her blouse. His lips traveled from collarbone to the cleft between her breasts and the scar. He kissed it gently as he slipped his fingertips beneath the clasp of her bra, opening it and sliding it softly from her body. His lips found first one breast, then the other, bringing pink nipples to longing attention.

"Castle," Kate moaned, running her palms down his broad back.

He hushed her with a fingertip across her lips and she nipped at it before grabbing for his belt. His pants stretched tightly over the throbbing heat beneath, until she freed it from its prison, flinging pants and briefs to the floor. She was more than ready as he recaptured her lips, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest. Her slacks joined his on the discard pile, and she opened to him, guiding him with hands whose eagerness bordered on desperation.

Arching her back while circling his waist with her legs she drew him deeper, craving the pressure within. Mouths still locked together, his hands supported the creamy orbs above her legs as they moved together, faster and harder. The tingling started deep inside her, moving outward. Her movements became even more frantic. She was close, so close. She could feel the final change, almost like the flipping of a switch as the contractions began, the motion triggering his release as well. The waves became shudders, finally banishing the tension from their bodies and leaving them still entangled but at peace.

"Castle," Kate murmured as the light in the room was reduced to the reflections of city lights.

"What?" he whispered softly stroking her cheek.

"I'm starving."

"We can always go another round," Castle offered.

"No, I mean food," Kate told him, consulting the glowing numbers on her father's watch. "We skipped lunch going to the murder scene and it's almost eight o'clock."

"Time flies when you're having fun," Castle quipped. "You want to go out?"

Kate considered the energy it would take to get dressed again and rejected the idea. "Let's just see what's in the fridge."

Castle inspected the shelves. "I used up all the leftovers in our morning scramble," he reported. "We could throw together a salad and I could grill some chicken."

Kate shook her head. "Too much work."

"Well if we're reliving the college experience, how about PB & J?" Castle proposed.

"Perfect," Kate agreed.

Castle spread peanut butter thickly and generously slathered grape jelly on the bread for two sandwiches. He pulled apples from the bowl on the counter and sliced them as an easy accompaniment, forming a smile on Kate's plate before handing it to her.

Kate returned the smile with one of her own and crunched an apple slice. "I think tomorrow we'll have to check out the school where Abby Grunge worked, see what they can tell us."

"So now that you're getting your store of energy refilled what do you want to do with the rest of the evening?" Castle asked.

"We could practice," Kate suggested.

"Practice what?" Castle inquired.

Kate used the tip of her tongue to lick a dribble of jelly from her finger. "For our honeymoon."

A grin spread over Castle's face. "You're on!"

* * *

><p>Rockford Private Academy was too quiet. No one screamed or giggled in the hallways. Children didn't squirm or shift around in their seats. Teachers spoke in even yet intimidating tones and students did as they were told. Castle considered the situation downright unnatural.<p>

"Is this one of your many alma maters, Castle?" Beckett asked.

"No," Castle replied. "This one post dates my elementary years and for that I'm grateful. It creeps me out. These aren't kids, they're robots. I'm tempted to make them watch the first eight minutes of _Up _and see if they cry."

"Well at least they're organized." Beckett remarked. "They had a list of teachers Abby Grunge worked with, as well a student rosters. They also have a room available for us to work in."

"That just makes them more creepy," Castle opined.

"Abby was good at her job," Miss McCurdy, a pretty blond first grade teacher stated. "The kids liked her. They talked to her, probably more than they talked to me. I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt her."

"Did she have any problems?" Castle asked.

"Well we're all short of money," McCurdy confided. "I think Abby was doing some tutoring on the side. I don't know for which children, none of my students. You'd have to ask the upper level teachers."

Mrs. Johnson was more helpful. "Yes Abby was making extra money tutoring several of my students. She was good at it. I recommended her to the parents. I can give you a list."

"We'd appreciate it," Beckett told her.

Castle and Beckett went over the list together. "Lee, Woo, Chang, almost all of these are Chinese," Castle noted. "You think it's the 'tiger mother' thing?"

"I don't know Castle, I can get Ryan and Esposito to help, but we'll have to check them all out.

Castle scanned the Lee's living room. The art was exquisite but what jade he saw was large and though antique, not prehistoric. The house was scrupulously clean, well ordered and smelled faintly of incense. An altar stood in one corner. Mrs. Lee was four foot nine, but Castle got the immediate impression that she was one to be opposed at great personal peril. She spoke highly of Abby Grunge but told Beckett that she had let Abby know that her services were soon to be terminated in favor of a family member. Abby had taken the news politely but had obviously been troubled.

"What do you think, Castle?" Beckett asked.

"I can't anyone even thinking of stealing from that woman, or even talking back," Castle replied with a shudder.

"She was kind of scary," Beckett agreed, "but I'll have Ryan check and see if the Lee family has any connection that might suggest smuggling."

Mr. Woo was a single father, struggling to raise two children after the passing of his wife. His mother had charge of the household, but only spoke Chinese, so he had enlisted the aid of Abby Grunge. He considered her a good tutor but reported that due to financial reverses he had cut back her hours. He greatly regretted doing so, not only for the sake of his children but because he understood that Abby needed funds to keep her own mother in supported living, an adherence to duty he greatly respected. The Woo home was small and contained little art. It was clear that a large chunk of Woo's finances went to keeping his children at Rockford.

"He needs money, Castle," Beckett pointed out, as she and Castle left the Woo residence.

"But if he were a smuggler, he wouldn't," Castle argued.

"Unless someone stole his booty," Beckett offered.

"But that was recent," Castle contended. "She had hardly started stripping the figurines. Woo's had problems for a while."

Beckett nodded. "True, but I'll have Espo check him out anyway."

A servant showed Beckett and Castle into the living room of the Chang home in the warehouse district and asked them to wait. The air was almost chokingly heavy with incense. "Beckett, no one needs this much incense," Castle asserted."My dorm used to smell like this when someone was trying to cover up the smell of pot. And do you detect another note, something sweet underneath?"

"Like M.E.K.?" Beckett asked.

"Exactly," Castle affirmed. "I think we've found our smuggler. You know Chang was the real name of the Lee family that runs the tong in Chinatown, the one where the son killed the girl with Ryan's gun."

"I remember, Castle," Beckett confirmed, but with Chinese names Chang is kind of like Jones. There are a lot of them. That doesn't mean they're related.

A nervous Mrs. Chang greeted them. She admitted that Abby Grunge had worked for her but had been discharged. "May I ask why?" Beckett inquired. "Did she do something wrong?"

"Oh no," Mrs. Chang answered too quickly. "My children learn fast. They didn't need her anymore."

"Was she upset about that?" Castle asked.

"No," Mrs. Chang assured him. "She had many other clients. I'm sorry I have to go. Jon-Wa will show you out." She spoke a few words of Chinese to the servant who had shown them in.

"Beckett, I don't know that much Chinese from my obsession with Joss Whedon's show, but I know the curse words," Castle offered. "She told Jon-Wa to get us the f**k out of there. If you ask me, it was very rude."

"But telling," Beckett observed. "She was definitely afraid of us. Put that together with the odor of M.E.K. And the Changs jump to the top of our suspect list. We can pull the financials and phone records and see what pops.

"Beckett, look at this," Castle urged as he examined the Chang's financial records. "There is nothing here to indicate a lifestyle that includes servants. They should barely have a sixth floor walk up. There is money off the books coming from somewhere."

"Yeah, and the phone records show a lot of calls between the Changs and Xié a company at the docks that supposedly imports shoes," Beckett added. "Want to go on a stake out?"

"One of my favorite things," Castle responded, "can we make out in the back seat?"

"Castle," Beckett reminded him, "I said stake _out_."

"They've been hauling boxes into that place all day," Castle complained. "We can't see what's in them. This isn't helping."

"Shush, Castle look what's on that forklift."

"It's a chemical drum of..." Castle used the zoom on his camera for a close up. "Beckett, it's M.E.K.! Now what would a shoe company want with a paint stripper.?"

"If we're lucky," Beckett speculated, "we can get a judge to ask the same question."

Mike Wong, the owner of record of Xié, sweated across the table from an implacable Kate Beckett. "Mr. Wong, we have smuggling charges just ready to hand over to the Feds. I'm sure the Chinese government won't be too happy either. But we're homicide cops. We don't care about smuggling, just murder, specifically the murder of Abby Grunge. Now she had some of the artifacts you've been smuggling in her possession, covered in the same paint yours were. We believe that those artifacts led to her murder. We also believe that she got them somehow from the Chang family."

"I don't know any Chang family," Wong insisted.

"Fine," Beckett told him. "I have a really good friend who's a customs agent. I'm sure she'd love a collar." Beckett pulled out her cell phone.

"Wait!" Wong exclaimed. "The Changs own Xié. I'm just the front man. The Changs pick up and clean the smaller, more delicate items and fence them. I don't know anything about an Abby Grunge, but I think the Chang's man, Jon-Wa thought he was issuing some kind of a warning. He told me someone had tried to steal from the Changs and he had taken care of it. "

Beckett passed over a pad of paper. "Write everything down."

* * *

><p>The raid at the Changs was almost anticlimactic. When faced with a full tactical squad, they offered no resistance. Jon-Wa quickly flipped on his employers to save his own skin and told the tale. The housekeeper had overheard the children telling Abby Grunge that the smell in the house was because their parents cleaned paint off pretty green toys. Abby had managed to take a few, but the theft did not go unnoticed. She was a leak that could not go unplugged. Contraband from Xié and the Chang house was handed over to customs and the Changs were arraigned on murder charges with Jon-Wa taking a plea for a shorter sentence.<p>

"You know," Castle said as he and Beckett packed up the last of the evidence from the murder board, "it really is a shame. All Abby Grunge was trying to do was get enough money to help her mother. That shouldn't have cost her life."

"I agree, Castle," Beckett replied, "and apparently so does the church where she played. They're raising money for Abby's mother's care."

"That's good," Castle responded. "So, ready to celebrate? You want to go for a drink at the Old Haunt?"

Beckett looked quickly around the bullpen to check that they weren't being observed. Her hand found its way between his thighs. "I think I'd rather celebrate privately."

"Oooh!" Castle gasped. "I'll get the elevator."


End file.
